


If I Knew Then

by got_milkovich



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Boys In Love, Canon Divergence, Denial of Feelings, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Fate, Flash Forward, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Gallavich Endgame, Happy Ending, Humor, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, Lust at First Sight, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Gore, Minor Violence, POV Alternating, Post-Canon, Recreational Drug Use, Reference to Bipolar Disorder, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Tension, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 03:55:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14464461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/got_milkovich/pseuds/got_milkovich
Summary: Mickey Milkovich really hated taking the bus. Or at least he thought he did, until life threw him a huge, red-headed curve ball.Sometimes what you're looking for comes when you're not looking at all.Loosely inspired by the song "If I Knew Then" by Lady Antebellum.





	If I Knew Then

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! Thanks for taking the time to read my first fanfic ever! I'm so nervous yet super excited to be joining the fanfic writing world. Some notes before we begin--this story is mostly set during Season 1, but it will eventually make a big time leap. And, as I've already mentioned, it was loosely inspired by Lady Antebellum's "If I Knew Then," hence the title. If you are already familiar with the song, great! If not, here's a link to it, should you wish to listen. It's definitely not required, but I think it helps with understanding why I wrote the story the way I did:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eRNB13Itsys
> 
> Also, my sincerest gratitude goes out to my betas, @ms.gallavich and @loveme.rp/@cam.monaghanfan on Instagram. Their editing powers combined helped me shape this story into so much more than I originally imagined. They're both incredible people with amazing accounts...go check them out if you haven't already! And hey, while you're over there, why not check out my Insta as well? Same name as here, @got_milkovich!
> 
> Okay, enough drabbling...let's get on to these silly boys already, shall we? :)

 

Mickey began to stir from a deep slumber as he heard his phone blasting an obnoxious tune and vibrating on his bedside table. _The fuck..._ He groaned as he picked it up, silenced it, and checked the time.

 _10:00 AM_.

“FUCK!”

His first appointment was at 11:00 AM and not within walking distance, which meant no time to shower or freshen up. _Shit_. He darted around his room in a frenzy, donning the first pair of jeans and shirt in sight. He snatched his thick winter coat off the wall hook, threw his backpack full of supplies over his shoulder, and rushed toward the front door of the decrepit Milkovich home. It was past time for his typical Saturday of completing drug runs and weapon sales for his father and brothers to commence, whether he felt up to it or not. It wasn’t the most glorious or safest of jobs, but it paid the bills and kept food on their table. He couldn’t deny that in the South Side, any job that was lucrative was worth any risks involved, regardless of how shitty or dangerous it may be.

“Hey dipshit!” Iggy proclaimed from his seat on their tattered couch. “You’re runnin’ a bit late, aren’t you? Better get your ass moving before Dad finds out!”

Mickey hated to admit it, but Iggy was right. The clientele of Chicago’s slums was a stickler for punctuality. Matter of fact, he was already preparing himself for the potential beatdown he would receive once he arrived at his first meeting spot. He could certainly handle his own in a fight, but not when he was well outnumbered, as he usually was when completing a transaction. And if Terry Milkovich found out Mickey arrived late for an appointment and compromised their reputation, he would most certainly give his youngest son his second beatdown of the day.

“Yes, thank you Captain fuckin’ Obvious, holy fuck!” Mickey shouted at Iggy, along with serving him a stiff one-finger salute. Iggy relaxed back on the couch and laughed.

Mickey lit up a cigarette, shoved his feet into his boots, opened the door and stepped out into the frigid morning air. He slammed the door forcefully behind him, more so to make a point rather than to ensure the warped door actually closed properly. He swiftly descended the porch steps and sprinted down the fractured sidewalk toward the nearest L station, bumping into some random kid along the way. The kid shouted a string of profanities at him. _Ha!_ As if he gave even half a shit enough to look back.

Panting furiously, Mickey finally arrived at the L and made his way toward the ticket kiosk, only to find he had just missed the train by a few minutes. He pulled his shitty flip phone from his pocket to check the time. _10:20 AM._ _You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me_ … He rubbed his hand over his face and reconsidered his options. Luckily there was a bus stop close by that covered the same route, and although he despised taking the bus, he really had no other choice considering the limited amount of time he now had to reach his destination. According to the billboard near the ticket kiosk, the next bus was due to arrive in 5 minutes. _Thank fuck_. He reluctantly forced himself to make a dash for the bus stop, all the while silently hoping the day would not get any worse.

***

Ian turned over in his small twin-size bed and rubbed his sleep-heavy eyes before grabbing his phone off of his nightstand. _6:00 AM_. He never really used his phone alarm; he had always been an early riser, awake before everyone else in the Gallagher house, no matter how early or late he went to bed the night before. He was an energetic young man with a lot on his plate—maintaining his grades, his fitness—any and all ambitious standards he held for himself. His dream was to join the Army and ultimately serve his country as an officer, and absolutely _nothing_ was going to stand in the way of that dream.

He stood up from bed, stumbled off to the bathroom to relieve himself, and then began his daily workout routine of stretches plus a few reps each of pull-ups, push-ups and sit-ups. Chicago was in the middle of a rough winter, so he located and put on the warmest tracksuit he owned, and then finished his workout with a run around his shitty South Side neighborhood. On Saturdays he worked mid-shift at the Kash and Grab so he wasn’t in a rush. He could even show up for work late if he wanted to and his job would still be secure; he knew Kash would cover for him if need be. Ian knew being sexually involved with a married man was probably a huge mistake, especially since he was underage and said lover’s wife was his boss, but what argument could he make? Ian was a gay, horny teenage boy, and Kash was more than willing to take it.

Ian arrived back home from his run and quietly walked upstairs to shower and get dressed for the day. It was around 8:00 AM and everyone in the house was still asleep, so he headed downstairs to start preparing breakfast for the family. This was normally a part of Fiona’s daily morning routine, along with preparing the Gallagher kids’ school lunches, but Ian helped out when he was able in order to give her a well-deserved break, especially on weekends when he had more free time. He was always ravenous after his workout, and today he was in the mood for banana pancakes. He knew the rest of the family would be thrilled with his choice as well; banana pancakes were Ian’s specialty. He pulled out all the ingredients he needed from the fridge and cabinets and got to work. He was pouring the last of the pancake batter in the skillet when he heard footsteps from behind.

Fiona came up beside him, planting a small peck on her brother’s cheek. “Hey, sweet face! Is that what I think it is?” she asked spritely, sniffing the air.

Ian smiled. “Yep. What are you doing up so early on a Saturday? Weren’t you out late with V last night?”

She nodded. “Job hunting. And yeah, I was, but we need money more than I need sleep right now. One shitty part-time job isn’t gonna cut it, and you already know fuckin’ Frank isn’t gonna help out around here. I don’t want you kids worrying yourselves with work and bills when you should be focusing on school.”

He placed his hand on her shoulder. “It’s cool, Fi. You know we don’t mind.”

She sighed and laid her head on his hand. “I know. Doesn’t mean I don’t still feel bad. You guys deserve so much more than this shit show of a life.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Hey…Gallaghers, right? Stop worrying for a second and have some breakfast. We gotta wake up the rest of the gang…wanna do the honors?” He smiled brightly at her.

She let out a small laugh. “Of course. KIIIIIIDS! BREAKFAST!”

Fiona set the table while Ian brought over the platter of pancakes, butter and syrup, along with a carton of orange juice. Within minutes the rest of the Gallagher clan was stampeding down the staircase—first Lip, then Carl, and lastly Debbie, toting a cranky Liam. Breakfast was always special in their household; it was the one time in the day when they could all spend quality time together, the one time they could talk, laugh and forget about the hardships they faced on a daily basis.

Once everyone had finished eating, they cleared the table, exchanged goodbyes and parted ways for the day. Ian was the last to leave; it was only 9:15 AM, which left him with about an hour of free time. _Alone_. Privacy was a precious commodity in his house, so when he got it he took full advantage of it. He headed upstairs, lit up a joint and jerked off, like any typical South Side teenage boy would do. He then lay back in bed, basking in his high until he had to leave for work.

Ian decided to leave the house a little after 10:00 AM, giving himself a bit of extra time to walk off the remainder of his high before having to serve the public. He slipped his sneakers on, put on his coat, and checked his pockets to make sure he had everything he needed. _House key and phone?_ Check. _Lighter and smokes?_ Check. _Condoms and lube?_ Double check. Ian was always prepared in that department. He made his way down the unstable wooden porch steps, through the gate and down the sidewalk, heading for the L. He felt around in his pocket for his lighter and cigarettes, only to realize he forgot his train ticket on his nightstand. _Fuck!_ He didn’t have time to turn back. To his luck, he was able to find a couple dollar bills and some change in his coat pocket for the bus. He wasn’t a fan of taking the bus, but it would have to do for now. He could have Kash bring him home later.

He pulled out a cigarette from the smashed carton, placed it in his mouth and cupped his hands around the end while he struggled to light it against the harsh winter winds. He was finally able to light it when he felt someone bump into his right shoulder, hard, sending the cigarette flying from his mouth.

“Ahhh FUCK! What the hell, man? Watch where you’re going you fucking asshole!” Ian shouted after the retreating figure. He could only make out that it was a guy, and that the guy was clearly on a mission, running like a mad man and not looking back once to see who he had crashed into. Ian groaned, picking up his wet cigarette and continuing along his journey to the closest bus stop, making every attempt to rub the sting out of his shoulder.

***

Mickey really did hate taking the bus, and if the expression of disgust on his face didn’t portray that well enough, nothing else would. He paid his fare, scowling and grumbling as he pushed his way through the sea of fast-talking, lively Chicagoans beginning their busy day. He made his way toward the back of the bus where there were still a few empty seats. He quickly set his backpack down on the seat next to him so no one could sit there and get too close for his comfort. When someone did try to sit in that seat, he simply gave them that _try me_ glare that usually deterred people quite easily. He wasn’t particularly a fan of larger crowds, or people in general, really. He preferred to be more of a loner—the _cut-the-bullshit, get-down-to-business-but-keep-your-distance_ type. That was the Milkovich way of life, and he lived by it religiously. It was safer that way.

The bus began to move. Mickey was reaching over to pull a Slim Jim out of the front pocket of his backpack when he looked up briefly, and found a pair of eyes had latched on to his own. Bright, green eyes. He hastily surveyed the rest of the person the eyes belonged to—younger. Fiery red hair. Freckles. Pale skin. Pouty pink lips. Soft yet defined facial features. Long legs. Toned physique. _Male_. He was able to capture all of that information in a matter of seconds before he quickly turned away from the redhead, shaking his head and grimacing. _What the fuck, Mick?_ He looked back down and continued to feel around in his backpack for the Slim Jim, more so at that point to distract himself from his thoughts rather than to satisfy his hunger. When he looked back up, the piercing green eyes were still on him, lingering for longer than he was comfortable with.

Mickey looked at him furiously. “The fuck are you lookin’ at?”

The redhead stared back at him, wide-eyed, most likely not expecting such a harsh response. “Huh? Oh umm…sorry…” he muttered before looking away.

“You got a fuckin’ problem?”

“Who, me?”

“Nah, fuckin’ Mary Poppins. Yes, you!”

“No, uh…no problem. Sorry.” The redhead dropped his gaze again, frowning.

For a brief second, Mickey actually felt a twinge of remorse for the kid. For what reason he was unsure, but there was something particularly unnerving about him. He fought to repress that thought. He simply looked away and began peeling back the wrapper of his Slim Jim.

“You just look really familiar, is all. Are you Mandy Milkovich’s brother? Mickey?”

Mickey’s head shot up immediately at the sound of the redhead saying his name. The sound of his name coming from him… _no!_ He refused to entertain any and all of his thoughts at that point. Unable to think of a better response, he defaulted to his defensive Milkovich ways. “The fuck’s it to you, hmm? And how the hell d’you know my sister, anyway?” he asked with his eyebrows raised.

The redhead furrowed his brow in confusion. “Jesus, man! Why are you being so fucking rude? I just asked a simple fucking question!”

_Well shit, he called me out. He’s one brave motherfucker, I’ll give him that…_

Mickey shook his head and sighed. He said in a clipped tone, “Yeah, I’m Mickey. Maybe you’ve seen me around school or whatever. Or around the neighborhood? I dunno.” He shrugged.

“Yeah, probably. Not sure. I’ve heard of your family before, though, even before I became friends with your sister. You Milkoviches have quite the reputation.” The redhead looked up at him, wearing a slight smirk.

Mickey raised his eyebrows again. “Oh yeah? The hell’s that supposed to mean, huh? What’re you gettin’ at?” _The nerve of this asshole…_

The bus came to a halt as passengers began to rise, making their way to the exits. The redhead rose with them.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Mickey Blue Eyes…”

_Oh no the fuck he didn’t…_

“…people talk shit all the time. Doesn’t mean anything,” he said as he brushed past Mickey on his way to the door.

“The name’s Ian, by the way. Ian Gallagher. I’ll see you around, Mick.”  

Ian flashed Mickey with a bright shit-eating grin as he stepped off of the bus. The brightest smile Mickey had ever…. _NO!_ The redhead was already on the sidewalk, but Mickey was able to make it to the bus doors before they closed. He held on to the hand rail, leaning out the door.

“Fuck you, Gallagher! Consider yourself fucking lucky this isn’t my stop!”

Ian walked backwards a few steps, his smile still fixed firmly in place. He threw Mickey a small wave as the doors closed and the bus pulled away from the curb.

Before returning to his seat, Mickey watched through the narrow window as Ian turned to continue walking down the street. He let out a deep exhale for what seemed like the first time in the past several minutes. _A fucking Gallagher…shit._ The Milkoviches were definitely aware of the Gallagher name…fuckin’ Frank in particular. Everyone in the South Side knew Frank Gallagher. And Mickey knew a little about Lip from school, but Ian? Surprisingly, no. Mandy had never mentioned him, or had him over. _Maybe they’re new friends? Who knows?_ Regardless, Ian was new to him. Different. _Intriguing…_

_Stop!_

What a day to run into a Gallagher, and a very irritating, cocky one at that. That was just his luck. At least it looked like he wouldn’t be late for his first appointment after all, and even if he was, something told him that would be the least of his concerns for the day.

***

It was a surprisingly slow day at the Kash and Grab, and for once Ian didn’t mind that. He had an extremely difficult time staying focused after his rather audacious encounter with Mickey Milkovich earlier in the day. He did everything he could to keep himself distracted—stocked the shelves with new merchandise, unloaded the delivery truck into the backroom, counted the till several times over—still, he could not seem to get his mind off of Mickey. Having already finished all of his daily work duties and then some, he finally resigned himself to sitting behind the register, laying his elbows on the counter with his head resting in his hands, thinking of nothing else but the dark-haired boy. The dark-haired boy with the viper tongue and icy blue eyes— _Mickey Blue Eyes_ —that froze him in place the moment he locked onto them. And those _full, soft, pink lips_ …the things he imagined that mouth doing to him. _Unspeakable things…_

“Ian….IAN! Hello?!”

“Huh?!? Oh, hey…sorry Kash.” Ian shook his head, forcing himself to regain focus.

Kash placed a hand on Ian’s shoulder. “Are you feeling okay? You seem a little out of it today.”

Ian nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I was just…thinking of all the things I need to do this weekend, before school Monday.”

_Or thinking about who I wanna do this weekend, rather…_

“Maybe I can help you clear your mind?” Kash raised his eyebrows with a small smirk.

Ian shook his head. “No thanks, I’m good. Not feelin’ it.”

“Oh…okay.” Kash looked genuinely concerned. “Anything I can help with?”

“Nah, I got it. Thanks though.” Ian smiled slightly, and then remembered. “Well, I do need a ride home tonight, if that’s okay. I forgot my train ticket this morning, and only had enough cash for a one-way bus trip.”

“No problem…I’ll drop you off.” Kash gave Ian’s shoulder a small, tender squeeze before he walked off to the backroom.

As Ian watched Kash walk away he reflected idly that maybe he should have felt a bit guilty about blowing the older man off, but his thoughts had already returned to Mickey before he could worry himself too much with that.

Mandy Milkovich was his best friend from school. She never talked much about her family, though. Perhaps her family life was like his—nothing to be particularly proud of. South Side families tended to be all the same; riddled with criminal activity, needing to do literally anything and everything they could to survive. She could have mentioned her brother, though, especially since he apparently went to school with them. He would definitely have to ask her more about him when he saw her again. He swore he had seen Mickey somewhere else before, though. But _where?_

Moments later, the front door of the store bust open, startling Ian out of his daydream. The customer walked in quite fast, not paying any attention to their surroundings, and headed straight toward the back of the store. Ian barely caught a glimpse of them, but the glimpse he did get was enough. Dark hair. Full lips. Blue eyes. Bad boy swagger.

_Holy shit. What is HE doing here?_

Ian stood up and walked around to the front of the counter, peering over the shelves to locate Mickey. He was only two aisles over now, grabbing what Ian assumed were potato chips considering the section he was standing in. Ian ducked down in case Mickey looked up, and he crept over to the aisle next to his. He moved a few items around on the middle shelf before wedging his head between the creamed corn and pickled eggs, peeping through the cracks. His jaw dropped at the wondrous sight in front of him. There was Mickey, biting his bottom lip as his ocean blue eyes were gazing intently at the items on the shelf. He then swept the pad of his right thumb across his bottom lip and groaned. Ian noticed the “FUCK” knuckle tattoos on a hand that looked so tough, so strong, yet somehow soft all in the same.

 _Sweet fuck…_ Ian bit his own lip as he watched, trying to inflict some kind of pain to get his head back in line, and to settle the second head in his pants which was now twitching at the scene unfolding in front of him. He backed out of his makeshift peephole, but misjudged the distance as he hit his head on the shelf above.

“Oww FUCK!”

He saw Mickey bend down to look through the cracks of the shelf, his eyes widening as he caught Ian’s gaze.

“…Gallagher?! The fuck are you doing?!”

Ian backed out and stood up, peering at Mickey over the top of the shelf.  He stood there, open-mouthed, blushing and unsure of what excuse he should make.

“Uhh...hey Mickey! Long time no see!”

Mickey glared at him with a mixed look of fury and confusion. He walked around to Ian’s aisle, facing him, his hands full of various food items—plain Pringles, ranch dip, cherry Jell-O cups and Pizza Rolls. _Interesting choice in diet_ , Ian thought absently.

“The hell are you doin’ here?”

“Umm, I work here?” At least he wasn’t lying about that, though he wished it had come out sounding less like a question and more like a fact.

“Yeah, okay. Well…you’re out of BBQ Pringles. What kinda shit is that?” Mickey walked past him briskly, bumping hard into his right shoulder as he headed toward the checkout counter.

“Oww Mick, the fuck?!” Ian hissed and rubbed his shoulder for the second time that day. He was definitely going to have a nasty bruise there. He followed Mickey to the front of the store, his eyes lingering downward. _A complete asshole with a perfect ass…damn._

“Really, Firecrotch? That hurt? Fuckin’ pussy.”

“Yeah, well it’s not the first time some asshole’s hit that shoulder today, alright? So fuck off!” Ian shouted as he passed Mickey up to walk behind the counter.

Mickey looked at him quizzically for a brief moment, then looked to his side, pausing before he said “...huh.”

Ian looked at him with a puzzled expression. _What?_

Mickey looked back up. “Well uh…whatever. See ya.”

Mickey bolted through the front door, still toting all the items he picked out earlier. Kash came out of the back room at the sound of all the commotion. “What the hell is going on?”

Ian grabbed his coat, donning it quickly as he slammed through the front door behind Mickey. He looked right, then left, finally spotting Mickey dodging pedestrians on the sidewalk across the street. Ian didn’t stop to think; he ran out into traffic and immediately sprinted after him.

“MICKEY! GET BACK HERE YOU PIECE OF SHIT!”

***

 _You’ve gotta be kidding me…shit.._.

Mickey was pretty damn sure Ian Gallagher was the kid he ran into earlier that day on the way to the bus. His day really couldn’t get any worse, could it? Walking into the store he’d definitely had zero intention of buying anything, but he also didn’t plan on making the dramatic exit that he did either. Whenever he hit up the Kash and Grab it was usually just Kash behind the counter. That wuss let him walk out with shit all the time and didn’t do jack about it. Ian being there definitely threw him for a loop, and once the realization hit him that Ian was most likely the one he bumped into earlier that morning, he panicked. _Has he always worked there? How come I’ve never seen him ‘til now?_

He heard Ian yelling behind him, only confirming his prior thoughts. The voice sounded all too familiar now. It was definitely him earlier, and now the redhead was hot on his trail. _Damn, Firecrotch is fast…Firecrotch…where the fuck did that come from?_ He shook his head to rid himself of that thought. Mickey kept a steady pace as he turned around just enough to see how far away Ian was, cursing under his breath when he realized how close he had gotten. He dropped all of his stolen items on the ground before turning down a dark alleyway between two brick buildings, hiding himself in a nook that would hopefully keep him out of Ian’s sight.

“I know you’re down here, Mick! Come the fuck out!”

Once Ian got close enough to where he was hiding, Mickey jumped out, grabbing Ian by the lapels of his coat and throwing him against the brick wall behind him.

“Ahh FUCK!” Ian yelled, clearly startled. He recovered quickly, pushing back with all his weight and slamming Mickey into the wall of the adjacent building. “What the fuck is your deal, huh? Runnin’ out with all that shit, thinking I’d just let you go?! And _I’m_ the fuckin’ pussy?!”

“FUCK YOU!”

Mickey grabbed Ian by the coat again and punched him in his gut, causing Ian to gasp desperately for air, and then threw a second punch that caught him in his left eye. Ian groaned from the pain but quickly regained his composure, successfully punching Mickey back twice; first in the jaw, then his right eye. He then grabbed Mickey and tossed him full force against the side of a nearby dumpster. _Shit…the kid can fuckin’ fight…_ He growled as he got back up, charging toward Ian and slamming him up against the brick wall again, glaring at him angrily, bearing his teeth and biting his bottom lip. Mickey noticed Ian’s eyes shift downward toward his mouth and then quickly back up. He felt a stutter in his already racing pulse.

“You ain’t gonna do fuck all about nothin’…you hear me? Fuck you!” They were both covered in blood, scrapes and cuts, breathing heavily, the condensation of their breaths in the cold air mixing together in the small gap between them. Their breathing slowed the longer they stared into each other’s eyes, Ian’s violently vivid green colliding with Mickey’s fathomless, ferocious blue. “Fuck…you…” Mickey repeated each word in between breaths.

_Oh fuck…am I…? Jesus…please don’t let him notice…the hell is wrong with me…?_

Ian looked down between them when he felt a stiffness pressing into his leg that wasn’t his own. Mickey was hard as a rock. Ian was confused, but also amused. He looked back at Mickey with an arched brow and one side of his mouth turned up into a smug smirk.

“Mick? Umm…”

_FUCK._

Mickey pushed him against the wall again. “What? I’m not some fucking queer or anything,” he spit venomously. 

“Is that so? Hmm.”

Ian hesitated for a second longer and then boldly reached a hand out, cupping Mickey’s hardness through his jeans as he massaged him with a slow but steady rhythm. Mickey was stunned speechless and motionless for a moment, unsure of how to react. He was wide-eyed, mouth open; a small whimper escaped him. On the one hand it felt so wrong, but on the other… _fuck_. It was so right. It felt so right. So… _good_. _He_ was so good…

Mickey snapped out of his stupor, pushing Ian off as he backed away, pacing back and forth. “Fuck! I’m NOT! I’m…” He was breathing heavily again as he paced for a few moments longer, then looked back at Ian, who was grinning back at him with that same alluring smile from the bus.

_Shit…am I really thinking about doing this? Can I do this? I can’t believe I’m actually gonna do this…_

“Fuck it.”

Mickey walked back toward Ian, grabbing him by his belt buckle, undoing his belt and jeans hastily. Ian looked surprised for a split second, but went right along with Mickey, returning the favor and freeing him from his jeans. He turned Mickey around to face the wall, pushing his jeans and boxers down just enough to reveal the most delectably round, plump ass he had ever laid eyes on. Ian couldn’t help but stare, his breath hitching as he anxiously fumbled around in his coat pocket for a condom and lube.

Mickey turned his head, scanning Ian’s body from top to bottom as he worked the condom down onto his cock. His eyes widened. _Jesus fuck, how many inches is that…eight? Nine?! Holy shit._

“You carry that shit on you, Gallagher?”

Ian grinned and cocked an eyebrow. “I’m always prepared.”

Mickey nodded and turned away, fighting the smile that was threatening his lips.

“Mick, have you ever…”

“Shut the fuck up and get on me already.”

Ian failed to suppress a giggle. “Whatever you say, tough guy. Bend forward. Steady yourself on the wall.”

***

Ian squeezed a few drops of lube onto his right middle and index fingers then grabbed Mickey’s hips, pausing for a brief moment to take in the sight of Mickey’s perfect ass once more. _Sweet merciful…this is really happening_ , he thought. He spread Mickey open and slid one slick finger into him, gliding in and out frustratingly slow, and then added a second finger, quickening his movement but keeping a steady, unwavering rhythm.

Mickey moaned and hissed. “Ahhh fuckk…..shit…ahhhh…” His head was turned slightly—eyes closed, beads of sweat forming at his hairline despite the cold, biting his lip—it was driving Ian absolutely insane. This was undoubtedly the hottest thing he’d ever witnessed…rendering the known bad boy down into a whimpering, quivering mess? Mickey Milkovich was absolutely gorgeous, and he probably had no fucking idea. Unable to resist, Ian ran his left hand through Mickey’s soft, tousled dark hair, then under his coat and shirt to caress his smooth, milky white skin. Mickey let out a small sigh of satisfaction, and at that point Ian knew Mickey was gone, completely lost in the moment. _Their moment_ , which was breathtakingly beautiful. Knowing that neither one of them was going to last long, Ian pulled his fingers out of Mickey and used the remainder of the lube on his fingers to slick himself up. He grabbed Mickey’s hips and spread him open again, positioning himself at his entrance, then slowly pushed in.

Mickey’s breath caught at the fullness of Ian’s cock filling him. Ian took it slow at first, not pushing all the way in until Mickey had adjusted to his size. Gradually he picked up his pace, finally pushing all the way in to Mickey’s core, leaving Mickey panting furiously and in a nearly uncontrollable frenzy. Ian pounded into him, his right hand gripping Mickey’s hip, while his left hand landed on top of Mickey’s left hand on the wall, entwining their fingers.

“Ahhh, Christ! Shiiiit! So good…ahhh…right there, don’t stop, keep going…deeper…faster…please…” 

_Dear God…_

Ian was so close to the edge and nearly hyperventilating. He reached around, grabbing Mickey’s already dripping cock and stroking swiftly to further his climax along even more as he pumped into him at full throttle. Mickey pushed back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust.

“Shit…I’m about to explode. Christ, you’re so good, Mick. You take me so damn good…fuuuck….so hot…”

Ian felt Mickey still slightly at those words, but he didn’t fight back. He could feel that Mickey was about to tip over the edge as well.

“Come with me, Mick.”

***

“Fuuuck Ian…shit!” Those words were all it took for them both. Without hesitation, Mickey came violently—panting, moaning, shaking vehemently—as Ian followed right behind him. They stayed pressed together for what seemed like an eternity as they came down from their climax, Ian laying his forehead against Mickey’s upper back as their heavy breathing slowed in unison. Ian untangled his left hand from Mickey’s, placing his hand back under his coat and shirt. Ian rubbed gently up and down Mickey’s soft back as a means to soothe him as he pulled out. “Ahh…” Mickey released a small moan as Ian did so. Mickey wiped himself off with the inside of his shirt, and then pulled his jeans and boxers up. As he zipped up and buttoned his pants, he snuck a few glances over at Ian, who was pulling the condom off then wiping himself off with his shirt as well. He watched Ian toss the condom into the dumpster, pull up and fasten his jeans, followed by his belt. When Ian turned back around he locked eyes with Mickey and slowly walked closer to him.

“Holy shit, Mick. That was…amazing. _You_ were amazing... so fucking good.”

Mickey couldn’t say anything. He was still dumbfounded by what they had just done. _We just met today…and he’s a dude! What the fuck was I thinking?!_ He looked down and simply nodded. “Yeah.”

“You okay?”

Mickey peeked up at him briefly, his head still down. “I’m fine,” he muttered. Ian didn’t look convinced. Mickey began to walk off, not saying a word.

“Mickey?”

He stopped to look back. “What?”

Ian walked up to him, looking into his eyes intently. He began to lean forward, as if to kiss him.

Mickey took a few steps back. “Don’t.”

 _Shit. Even if I wanted to, I just…I can’t. This is too much for one day._ He turned away from Ian and continued walking.

“So is that it? We bang after just meeting today, and you’re just gonna leave without saying a word?”

Mickey paused for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut, unsure of what to say. He resorted to his Milkovich defense mechanism, as per usual. He turned to face Ian again, walking up to him slowly. “What did you think this was, Gallagher? It was nothing but a fuck. And if you tell anyone about this, I’ll cut your fuckin’ tongue outta your head.” Ian didn’t say a word. He only shot Mickey a look of concern and disappointment before Mickey turned away from him again, practically running out of the alleyway.

Mickey had to get away as quickly as he could, before Ian could read his face and see right through the mask of lies he wore. The truth was it was the best sex he’d ever had. Even more so than that, it was the best he had ever felt. Period. But the fact that he felt that way with another guy? He had a difficult time accepting that for what it was. _What the hell? Does this make me gay? Am I gay?!_ No, he couldn’t be. Milkoviches weren’t gay. They _couldn’t_ be gay. Terry Milkovich was extremely homophobic, and he made sure he instilled his beliefs into his kids. He would kill his own kid if he thought even for a second they were anything other than straight.

No, he wasn’t gay! It was just a fuck, that’s all! It was just as he told Ian it was.

But then…why did everything feel so right? And why did he have the urge to meet Ian half way for a kiss? Even in that dark and dirty alleyway, everything was so good. He was so good. So… _perfect_.

With that realization he knew. This would not be the last time he would see Ian Gallagher. He would make sure of it. He needed to know more of him, more about him.

Who knows…perhaps he just needed _him_.

***

It was near dark as Ian headed back to the Kash and Grab. He was gone for over an hour, and it was now past the end of his shift. Kash was probably worried sick, but he didn’t really care. There was only one guy on his mind at that moment. Despite what Mickey had told him back in the alleyway, he couldn’t believe what they just did was nothing more than a one-time fuck. _I know he felt something, too. He can’t fake that._ Even though he wasn’t saying it, he could see it in his eyes. Ian swore those eyes could tell his entire life story with just one look.

He entered the store and saw Kash sitting behind the register, drumming his fingers on the counter.

“Ian, what the hell?! Are you okay?!”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I took care of everything, no worries.”

“You were gone for a long time…and you’re hurt!”

“I’m fine, I promise. It’s all good.”

Kash nodded. “I waited to close up until you got back. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks.”

“Come on, let’s go.”

During the car ride home, Ian didn’t say much of anything to Kash. He just stared out the window, replaying the entire day over in his head. _How did things escalate so quickly?_ He knew he had seen Mickey before… _and why did it seem like for a second he was concerned about my shoulder?_

Nothing made any sense…

_….._

_……..._

_Wait…no. No way…couldn’t have been…right?_

Ian couldn’t hold back a smile. It was the strangest day he’d ever had, but it was arguably the best. He knew it would not be the last time he saw Mickey. Even after just one day, he could tell they were meant to meet. Even after just one day, he could see that underneath the tough thug façade, there was a beautiful yet troubled soul, dying to break free. Even after just one day, he knew they had a real, genuine connection that ran deeper than lust. He could see it all, clear as day.

 

Even after just one day, he knew that Mickey Milkovich was going to be a monumental part of his life.

* * *

_Six years later_

Ian stood, staring straight ahead into the warm hues of the sunrise as he took one last drag off of his cigarette. He drew back his right arm and tossed the butt into the sparkling, violent waves of the Mexican coastline where he planted his bare feet. He wiggled his toes until his feet were completely immersed in the soft, damp sand, while the tips of the waves danced around his ankles, tickling his leg hair. A tingling sensation traveled up his long, flawless body to the top of his head. The first sunlight of the day grazed his red hair, resembling the flames of a ferocious fire. He tilted his head back with closed eyes, and drew in a deep inhale of the briny sea air. He could hardly believe it. The past six years had been a real shit storm; Mickey in and out of juvie, their battles with Terry, their struggles with Ian’s bipolar disorder, Mickey going to prison on a bullshit attempted murder charge, Mickey _escaping_ said prison. That was just the short list of the shit they endured, but it was all behind them now. This was the first real day of their new life together; it would be just like this, day in and day out. Sandals and tequila, sunshine that burned him like a motherfucker—it was the most surreal feeling. He felt some remorse about leaving without first informing his family; he knew Fiona would be upset, and probably fucking furious. He even felt some regret about not texting or calling his then-boyfriend Trevor back. Also, they would have to live cautiously for a while so as to not have Mickey get caught by the feds. But even so, he knew they would be okay. They had weathered the worst of storms in their prior life, and they had done so _together_. Setting all negative feelings and thoughts aside, he knew he had made the right decision to cross the border with Mickey, his one true love. For once in their troubled lives, they could finally be happy. At peace. _Free_.

Ian heard sand kicking up behind him, then a strong pair of arms wrapped around his waist from behind as his favorite pair of lips sprinkled light kisses up and down his bare back. Ian smiled, laying his arms on top of Mickey’s, sliding their fingers together.

“Good morning to you, too.” Ian said as he lifted Mickey’s right hand up to his lips, planting a soft kiss on their entwined knuckles.

He felt Mickey smile against his back. “Mornin’, Firecrotch. What you doin’ up so early?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Couldn’t sleep. You know me.”

Mickey walked around to face Ian, wrapping his arms back around his waist as he stared straight into his bright emerald gaze. “You tryin’ to say I didn’t wear you out enough last night? Hmm?”

Ian tilted his head back, laughing, then looked back down at him. “Fuck off…you know you fucking did.”

Mickey was beaming. He reached up and grabbed the back of Ian’s neck, pulling him into a light kiss that turned heated quickly, leaving them both gasping for breath.

“I know. And I’m gonna do it again real soon. But first…” Mickey grabbed Ian by the shoulders and pushed him into the water, laughing loud and freely.

“The fuck, Mick?! Alright, asshole…wanna play, huh?” Ian was laughing too as he grabbed Mickey by his arm, pulling him down with him and into his lap.

Mickey turned and sucker-punched Ian in his left upper arm. “Fuckin’ dick!” He was still laughing. Ian pulled Mickey up against him, encasing him in his embrace, forcing Mickey to lie back against his chest as the gentle waves lapped around them. Ian kissed and nipped at the most gorgeous neck and jawline his lips had ever tasted, as his hands traveled up and down Mickey’s torso. Mickey groaned, leaning his head back against Ian’s shoulder. He turned Ian’s face toward him, pulling his lips down toward his for a searing kiss. Ian sucked on Mickey’s bottom lip with a small bite that had him trembling.

Ian broke their kiss and stared intently into eyes that rivaled the ocean’s blue.

“I love you.”

Mickey smiled, answering him back with the sweetest kiss as he lay back against Ian’s shoulder. They both looked out beyond, both silent for a while, chasing the sunrise together.

Mickey broke their silence. “Hey, you ever think back in the day, this is where we’d be?”

“Making out on a beautiful beach with the person I love most, without a care in the world?” Ian sighed happily. “Couldn’t have dreamt of a more perfect life, even if I tried.”

“Are you happy?”

Ian looked down at him. “Yes, Mick. Absolutely.”

Ian smiled and kissed Mickey’s cheek before he stood up. “I spotted a diner on our way here…s’not too far from us. Thinking of grabbing a bite…you hungry?”

“Yeah, sure. I could eat. Pancakes sound fuckin’ amazing.”

Ian nodded in agreement. “Let me guess…banana?”

Mickey giggled. “Goddamn right.” Ian gave him a small peck on his lips before he turned to walk up the beach.

“Hey, Ian?”

“Yeah?”

Mickey walked over to him, grabbing his right hand without breaking eye contact. “I never told you this…but it was me who bumped into you all those years ago on the sidewalk. You know, that first day we met on the bus? Little did I know you would change my life forever.”

Ian paused for a brief moment, then nodded. “Yeah Mick, I know.”

Ian turned back again, his fingers intertwining with Mickey’s as they walked up the beach together, a huge smile spreading across his face.

 

Six years Ian waited for that confirmation, and it was well worth it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, thank you so much for your time! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you did, leave a kudos or a comment...I'd really love to hear from you!


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